Influx
by hewey89
Summary: A lieutenant, the son of a revered US Navy Commander, is found dead. The case slowly leads the team further up the commercial and political ladder, with dire consequences for two of the agents. Definitely Tate. Maybe a little McAbby later.
1. Chapter 1

_Title_: Influx

_Author_: hewson

_Spoilers/Timeline_: There may be spoilers in the future, but I will warn you if there are. The story can really be set anywhere I guess, probably during Season 3, but Kate survived the shooting. _Yes, I'm in denial_. The bullet scraped her temple and she had a few months off to recover. You'll see why I've told you this later. And, as much as I love her, Ziva isn't there. Sooner or later this fic will be screaming Tate. Maybe some McAbby.

_Disclaimer_: You know the deal. Bellisario and his friends own everything _NCIS_. No copyright infringement is intended.

_A/N_: This will be my first **finished** fic, hopefully, so be nice! But don't be afraid to review or dish out criticism. As long as it's constructive. Oh, and also, I'm not an American, I'm from Australia… so if there are any Americanisms or sports teams or phrases that I screw up, please excuse (or tell me)! I think I'll catch most of them… If there's anything major, review and let me know so I can change it.

---

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

He woke up feeling like death. Ironically appropriate given what the day held in store.

White light poured in, even before he had opened his eyes, and a variety of sounds, all way too loud. Someone was pounding his brain like a two year old who'd just discovered a hammer. Through the windows he could hear the roaring sounds of pouring rain and the boisterous noises of the city. Well, boisterous noises for Washington City.

He was vaguely aware of a dim, blaring noise coming from somewhere beside him. At first he ignored the semi-regular ringing, pulling the pillow over his head and brushing it off as a siren. But the drone seemed to get louder and nearer.

_Please no, _he thought. His cell phone._ Maybe it'll just stop._

It didn't.

This was not his favourite way to wake up. His favourite way to wake up was to have some beautiful brunette whisper to him softly at two-thirty in the afternoon that if he wanted to get to the airport in time to catch his flight to Barbados, he'd better ring for lunch. This occurred rather less often than he might've wished.

Anthony DiNozzo managed to slowly pry open his eyes, but quickly regretted it. The bright green LCD screen flashed in front of him, painfully searing his eyes and forcing them shut again. He reached out and blindly grabbed for the phone, fumbling to flip it open. He struggled to recognise at least a few digits on the blurry digital display.

_Damn it_. It was Gibbs.

"DiNozzo," he answered mechanically.

"Morning," Gibbs crackled.

Tony leant over and checked the time on his bedside clock. 5:39am. Gibbs was way too perky for this time of morning. This time of morning should still be considered night. He groaned and rolled back.

"Hey, boss. You do realise that it is five-thirty in the morning? I know time escapes you while you work in the basement but there's no need to…"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked.

"Sorry, boss." He cleared his throat. "I mean… what's up?" he asked groggily, hoisting himself onto an elbow.

Lieutenant Nathan McGregor, twenty-nine. Found dead in his house at Norfolk. Night shift have already got a case so I told Burke that I'd cover this one for him."

"Uh," Tony grunted. "Okay, I'll be in in a half hour."

Gibbs hung up.

Tony snapped the phone shut, threw it lazily back onto the bedside table and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he sat up on the side of his bed and checked the time again. 5:41am.

The rain continued to spray heavily on his window. He cursed silently, realising he'd have to go out in this weather. Why two marines on his day off? And why on the morning after a big night out?

He walked into the bathroom, splashed a handful of water on his face and ruffled his hair. He couldn't be bothered brushing it. He grabbed a vitamin tablet and a pack of aspirin out of the draw and downed them with a handful of water. His head was still pounding.

A hot then cold shower revived him a little, a large mug of strong coffee even more so. He returned to his bedroom and began rummaging blindly through the cupboard and drawers. He pulled a pair of jeans, long-sleeved shirt and sports jacket out of the closet and inelegantly dressed himself. He picked up his cell phone, ID wallet and Sig Sauer from the nightstand and looked out the window. It was still pouring. He fetched his overcoat.

This was going to be a long day. He could tell.

---

It was pouring. It was cold and it was pouring.

Kate hated Washington weather at this time of the year. No matter how much you rugged up, your clothes would get soaked and you would get that irritating kind of uncomfortable that wasn't quite painful but certainly wasn't pleasant.

At least she drove to work, and didn't walk. Still, the traffic was awful this morning, even at 6 o'clock. It wasn't really bumper to bumper, but there was bound to have been at least a few accidents in this weather.

A blotchy blue and red light flew past her window as she sat and waited at yet another set of traffic lights. She gently tapped her thumb on the steering wheel and bobbed her head to the music blaring over the radio: U2's _Elevation_. She laughed softly as she remembered the last time she'd heard this tune. The team were on their way to a crime scene, a couple of months ago, and Tony had broken out into song, complete with painfully screamed "woo ooo"s at the end of each verse. God, DiNozzo was a bad singer. But he certainly got the rest of the vehicles around them into it. He even got a few people singing out their own windows.

Until a few girls pulled up in a car next to them. Then he shut up. At least he _knew_ he couldn't sing.

The lights turned green and she pressed her foot down. Washington Navy Yard was only just around the corner. Only a few minutes and she'd be basking in the toasty warmth of a heated federal building. Then within the next few minutes it would be back out into the field. Back out into the rain. And the cold. And the annoying kind of uncomfortable.

Perhaps Gibbs would assign her desk duty today? Could she pull off a cold? Fever even?

Who was she kidding… she could have glandular fever and Gibbs would still want her out in the field. Maybe, if she spilt his coffee… twice…

Kate pulled up into her parking spot and began sprinting toward the building using a two-day-old newspaper as cover. George Bush would just have to let his grinning inky face sacrifice itself for her comfort.

She reached the doors and slammed herself against them. Then she remembered they opened outward.

Great. Cold. Wet. And now in pain.

After successfully penetrating the difficult and highly confusing NCIS entrance doors, she made her way to the elevator and was immediately inundated with a stack of files by McGee, hurriedly thrusting them into her arms and continuing down the hallway.

"McGee? Where are you going?" she called.

"More files," he trailed. "Those are for you to start going through. Tony's already upstairs." He quickly turned his back before ducking into a door down the hall. McGee on a mission.

Kate looked down at the massive stack in her arms. It was almost touching her chin.

Who the hell was this lieutenant? They shouldn't have this number of files already.

This was going to be a long day. She could tell.

---


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Firstly, For all those who read Chapter One up until a few hours ago, I'm incredibly sorry for this, but I've had to alter something. To go where I want this fic to go, I had to change Senior Chief Petty Officer Nathan McGregor to a Lieutenant! I ended up doing a hell of a lot of research for this chapter (you won't even notice it, though) as I know absolutely _nothing_ about the U.S. Navy, and realised that I had to change it. So, he is now Lieutenant Nathan McGregor. Hopefully this doesn't cause too much confusion.

Secondly, I'd like to apologise in advance for all U.S. Navy inaccuracies. I have done research for this fic, but I have exercised some creative license. I'm also sure that I've unintentionally included mistakes. Please excuse my errors, particularly anyone from the navy who knows _exactly_ what's wrong!

Anyway, on with the fic!

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

"Need something to do, Tony?" Kate asked as she walked into the office, still soaked from the rain, motioning to the large stack of files that were weighing her arms down.

"Mmn, no. I'm swamped," Tony mumbled, throwing a Malteser up and catching it in his mouth. His desk was bare. And somehow, he'd managed to stay perfectly dry.

Kate rolled her eyes and glared at him. "Remind me why the agency pays you again?" she asked, dropping the reports onto the desk.

"Because I make 'em look _pretty_," he smiled, preparing to throw another chocolate. "Hey, Kate, check this out," he called enthusiastically.

Kate glanced up from the papers littering her area, fiddling with a pen between her fingers. "What, DiNozzo?"

He smiled cheekily, leaned his head back and began blowing out softly. He placed a Malteser gently above his lips, allowing it to be suspended mid-air. He continued for a few seconds until he abruptly stopped blowing, let the chocolate fall into his mouth and began chewing it with a broad grin.

"Oh, well done," Kate said, sarcastically. "Quite a talent. Bet you can't do it again."

Tony smiled and held his finger up, in a correcting motion. He repeated the trick again, but as soon as the chocolate began to 'float', Kate smiled wickedly and threw her pen straight at his mouth, catching him off-guard, causing the small chocolate ball to be knocked from its perch and sending Tony tumbling off his chair.

"Hey!" he yelled, startled. He fumbled with the pen and threw it straight back at Kate, who was now in a fit of laughter.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, striding through the office, brandishing an already half-drunken coffee cup.

Tony quickly stood up and straightened himself out, brushing down his jacket. "Yeah, boss?"

"Sometimes I wonder why I decided to hire you over a twelve-year-old," Gibbs mumbled, sitting down at his desk.

"Me too, boss," Tony replied. He returned sheepishly to his desk, sending a scowl toward Kate.

"Whose handwriting is this?" Gibbs snarled, picking up a file on his desk and squinting at it intently.

"Oh, it's mine," Tony said, quickly moving to Gibbs' desk. "I was kind of in a rush 'cause you wanted the report ASAP and I didn't really get time to cross my T's, dot my I's…"

Gibbs glared at him.

"And… now I wish I was dead…" he added, gulping and carefully removing the file from Gibbs' clutches.

"Good morning, everyone," McGee chirped cheerfully, carrying another stack of files as he walked in, backpack slung securely over his shoulder.

"McGee, how the hell can you be so awake at this time of morning?" Tony asked.

"I'm always up by about five or six in the morning," McGee replied.

"Even on your days off?"

"Yeah, usually."

Tony walked over to McGee and placed an arm around his shoulders. He leant in close and spoke in a deep, serious voice. "Probie. I want you to answer me this question with complete and utter honesty. I don't want to hear a word of a lie." Tony paused for effect. "Do you _ever_ get laid?"

McGee rolled his eyes, shrugged Tony's arm off his shoulders, walked behind his desk and dropped his bag on the floor.

Tony smiled broadly and returned to his own, confident that one of the many insults he had planned for McGee had succeeded.

"If you two are done discussing sleeping patterns," Gibbs started sternly, "or lack thereof, the Director wants to see us in her office."

He stood, took another sip from his coffee and began to pace toward the stairs, when he realised that he was not being followed. "Now… !" he called forcefully, not stopping.

A ramble of "_oh_"s and "_right, boss_"s trailed behind him as the three agents leapt to their feet and scurried behind him. They hiked up the stairs after Gibbs and exchanged a mixture of concerned and confused glances as they watched him bypass the Director's secretary and march straight into her office.

"Agent Gibbs, I see you've finally learned how to knock" the Director said sarcastically hanging up the phone as they entered. "What did I say about you barging into my office?"

"That it was domineering… and insubordinate," Gibbs delivered with a cheeky grin.

"Precisely. Only I remember using the phrase 'don't' somewhere in there."

Gibbs returned another smirk. "You wanted to see us, Director?"

"Yes," she said, standing. "Your case." She switched on the screen behind the group and leaned forward on her desk. "Lieutenant Nathan McGregor."

The team turned to watch the large plasma flicker to life, displaying a scattered range of files and images. At the centre of the display sat a large photograph of a handsome young naval officer dressed impeccably in uniform. He had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, with a soft smile having managed to slip past the photographer.

"Twenty-nine years old. Body was called in at four o'clock this morning. He was found at his house. 322 Heathrow Avenue, Norfolk Naval Base," the Director continued.

She paused for a moment. "I asked for you to be assigned this case."

Gibbs took his hands out his pockets uncomfortably, as if he'd known that already, but that it had just been confirmed. The other three agents were silent.

"Gibbs, I assume you'd be aware of why this case may be treated with some special consideration?"

"Anything to do with his last name?" Gibbs answered, cynically.

Jenny smiled.

"Uh, something we're missing?" Tony piped in, mirroring Kate and McGee's perplexed expressions.

"Lieutenant McGregor is the son of Commander Frederick James McGregor," Jenny replied.

Their expressions remained blank.

"Commander McGregor was a Vietnam War veteran, Navy SEAL, and a Medal of Honour and Purple Heart recipient. He's now a senator," Jenny continued.

"Senator James McGregor was a Navy SEAL and Medal of Honour recipient?" Kate asked, taken aback.

"Yes. He's more recognised in the naval community than he is in the political, Agents. And his son, it seems, followed in his father's footsteps." Jenny clicked a button on the remote and the screen maximised a file. "Nathan McGregor was also a SEAL."

The three younger agents nodded their head in acknowledgement.

"Now, obviously investigations must begin into relationships individuals have had with Senator McGregor, both whilst he was in the Navy and now, as a politician. Enemies, complaints, the usual."

"So I'm guessing all those files downstairs are on the Lieutenant's father?" Tony asked.

"Just thinking ahead, Agent DiNozzo. However, I don't want full focus on his father. There are plenty of other motives and I want every single one explored. I've spoken to the Secretary of the Navy and everything has been readied for you to fly to Norfolk and board the USS Saipan, the vessel that McGregor was embarking on in 72 hours."

"72 hours? Shouldn't he have been on board?" Kate asked.

"Yes, well that's one thing you need to find an answer to, Agent Todd. He would have needed special clearance from his Captain to return home, and even then it's highly unlikely for him to receive permission," Jenny continued. "Whatever the case, his death must be solved as soon as possible. A cruiser or frigate may not leave port whilst one of its scheduled crew is unaccounted for, under investigation or involved in an inquiry of some description. As McGregor was last seen aboard, from this point on, every sailor on that frigate is under investigation."

"You're not saying the vessel is still preparing to leave?" McGee asked.

"If it were any other assignment, departure would have been delayed. However, the SS Saipan is scheduled to leave for a combat zone. McGregor's SEAL Team 10 were being deployed to Afghanistan," Jenny replied. "You have 72 hours to solve this case."

---

"So are we flying private jet or cargo aircraft?" Tony asked excitedly, descending the stairs as soon as he had left the Director's office.

"Whatever takes off first," Gibbs stated bluntly, descending beside him.

Tony crossed his fingers, closed his eyes and began silently praying.

"Is it really fair for us to be given a deadline of 72 hours, Gibbs?" Kate asked. "We're very rarely able to solve a case within three days. We have to take into account blood tests, DNA comparisons, delays in interviews…"

"Kate," Gibbs answered, turning to face her. "I don't think you quite get the importance that Commander McGregor has within the U.S. Navy. You think I'd call you three in at five-thirty in the morning for an unknown seaman?"

"Well, yeah, actually," Kate answered smartly.

Gibbs glared at her and then slowly let his face soften. He tightened his grip around the side-rail before letting it fall to his side. "I received my sniper training from a marine who'd served with Commander McGregor in Vietnam. McGregor won his Medal of Honour for saving the life of my instructor, among others. I've never heard any soldier speak higher of another throughout my entire career, Kate." He paused for breath. "We will solve this case and we will solve it within 72 hours."

Kate stayed silent. McGee and Tony mimicked.

Gibbs turned and began walking down the stairs. "Grab a change of clothes and a toothbrush," he called. "We're staying in Norfolk until this is done. On the Saipan if need be."

---


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

Tony didn't quite get his wish.

"A cargo aircraft's scheduled to depart for Norfolk at 9:05am, boss. The CF40's not departing until 9:45," Tony said despondently, hanging up the phone.

Kate groaned silently. She wasn't as obsessive about getting a private jet as Tony was, but she was sure that she was far more reluctant to board a cargo aircraft than him.

"Want me to call Base 029 and ask if we can catch a lift?" Tony asked.

"Nope," Gibbs replied.

Tony's face lit up. "Are you serious? We're going the jet anyway?" Tony was literally leaping out of his seat.

"Nope," Gibbs repeated, standing from behind his desk and grabbing his overcoat.

Tony's face morphed to a blank look of confusion.

"United Airlines flight 546 leaves from Washington National Airport at 8:40am," Gibbs said.

Gibbs walked past Tony and as he did so, planted a large smack across the back of his head. "Think simple, DiNozzo."

Tony winced from the slap, before turning to glare at McGee, who'd found the whole situation rather amusing. Unlike Kate and Tony, he'd never experienced a military aircraft flight, and from observing the reactions of Kate and Tony to the mere mention of one, he was pretty sure he didn't want to.

McGee watched as Tony now turned his attention to Kate, who stood from her own desk and walked to the centre of the office.

He could already tell exactly what they were thinking.

Kate and Tony were both silent.

Tony took a few steps forward so that his and Kate's bodies was mere inches away from the other. He stared into her eyes and let a wicked grin spread across his lips. He knew exactly what was coming and he wasn't going to let Kate win this time.

She could feel his broad shoulders and chest bear down on her – he was more than a head taller – but she wasn't going to back down. His normally soft eyes sharpened and narrowed and bore into her own. His face was getting dangerously close, but his breath was relaxed and slow and she could feel it gently brushing against her face each time his chest rose and fell.

Normally, for some odd reason, being within this proximity to that body caused a rather inexplicable mixture of symptoms to arise from her own, including light-headedness, a rise in heart rate, laboured breathing, and a severe drop in concentration levels. But at that moment, not even that body couldn't break her focus.

"Shotgun aisle seat!" she called.

"Shotgun aisle seat! Damn it!" Tony shouted.

---

United Airlines flight 546 had been in the air for a little over an hour. Three NCIS agents lay awkwardly strapped into their economy-class seats as each attempted to overcome the effects of their early morning wake-ups.

The dull drone of the engines seemed to lull McGee to consciousness first.

He hated flying. He wasn't afraid of it. He just hated it. Planes weren't meant to be in the sky. People were not meant to be in the sky. Birds had wings. People didn't. It was a genetic trait that evolution had failed to provide humans with. For a reason.

But it wasn't just the scientific absurdity of it all. You couldn't get more than a few hours sleep – if you were lucky – and even then, an unbearable mixture of young children, over-polite stewardesses and in-flight action movies interrupted it constantly. It was lucky that they were only travelling to Norfolk as well, or else the other three would have had to deal with a jetlagged McGee. Not a pretty sight.

He rubbed his eyes, attempting to rid them of their magnetised reflex to shut again. Slowly, they began to open, and he was finally able to focus on the seat in front of him. He realised what had actually woken him: Harrison Ford was running across the screen wielding a semi-automatic.

He looked quickly across the aisle to where Gibbs should have been sitting. He'd disappeared. Probably roaming the luggage hold searching for a nice spot to nap.

McGee felt something softly nudge his shoulder and turned to find Tony, his eyes half-lidded and somewhat bloodshot, attempting to gain his attention. He'd obviously just woken up as well.

Tony was in desperate need of a glass of water and McGee had ended up scoring the other aisle seat. "Hey, McGee."

McGee pulled one earphone down. "Hey," he said. "Sleep well?"

"No," DiNozzo grumbled. "Next time that stewardess comes past..."

"Get her number?" McGee grinned broadly.

Tony snarled. He went to move his arm to whack him over the back of the head but realised something was weighing it down.

McGee smiled and nodded his head in the direction of Kate, who was sitting on the other side of Tony. She was fast asleep with her head resting on Tony's shoulder.

"Hunh..." Tony pronounced. He hadn't even felt her there as he'd woken up.

McGee smiled, "She looks pretty comfortable."

"Well... I guess I'm just pretty squishy," Tony returned.

McGee continued to grin. "You do too..."

"Now what the hell's that supposed to mean, Probie?" Tony shifted his gaze back to McGee, a look of poison flashing across his eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Just you and Kate," he made eyes at the two of them.

McGee had wanted to bring this notion up for months. Actually, it was ever since he'd met them that he'd seen sparks and thought something might have been going on, but he'd never really found the right time. Now seemed as good a time as any – sleep deprived and within the company of numerous witnesses who would probably prevent Tony from considering a blow to the stomach.

"Ever thought of yourself as more than co-workers?" he asked.

Tony laughed softly, "Me and Kate? You gotta be kidding me, McGee."

"Hey, I'm just telling what I see," McGee said.

"There is nothing going on between Kate and I," Tony affirmed, a little too forcefully.

"Okay, I believe you. But I don't believe that you don't want there to be."

"You're insane," Tony smiled, flicking on the screen in the back of the chair so that Harrison Ford was now firing a semi-automatic in front of him.

"Fine," he relented. "Maybe you're too ignorant to see it, but I can."

Tony shot him a glance, but continued to focus on the screen in front of him.

"I'm going to the bathroom," McGee sulked, unlocking his seatbelt and heading down the aisle.

Tony chuckled softly to himself at McGee's comments, which seemed to wake the sleeping form on his shoulder. Kate stirred gently against his collarbone, her hair brushing softly against his neck. He ignored the tingling feeling shooting down his arm.

Kate opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him with a drowsy expression of disbelief.

"Morning, hot stuff," he said with a large grin plastered across his face, eyeing her bewildered hair.

"Hi," she replied, quickly removing herself from Tony's proximity. Her still-heavy eyelids masked little of the expression of suspicion that had spread across her face. Had she really fallen asleep on _DiNozzo_'s shoulder?

"Sleep well?" Tony said, still beaming.

"Mmm, actually. Yes," she said, rubbing her eyes and backing even further away. "How long until we land in Norfolk?"

Tony looked down at his watch. "A little over twenty minutes."

She groaned softly, yawned and ran a hand through her hair. She pulled a newspaper from the seat pocket in front of her and flicked it open. "What are you watching?" she asked.

"Uh…" Tony stumbled, refocusing on the screen in an attempt to figure out the film from a few frames. "_Air Force One_," Tony smiled, proud of his quick identification. "You've got to be kidding me," he continued, peering over Kate's shoulder and eyeing the newspaper she was reading. "You're not really into all of that horoscope stuff are you?"

Kate smiled. "It's last week's. I like to see what _should've_ happened to me. Apparently," she began, tracing her finger along the page as she dictated, "I was meant to come into a large sum of money, meet the man of my dreams and enjoy a pleasant week of work at the office."

"And?" he asked, finally stopping a stewardess politely in the aisle and seizing two cups of water. He placed one on Kate's tray table.

"Am I living in a penthouse with George Clooney, spending my days relaxing by the pool?"

Tony raised his eyebrows. "George Clooney, eh?"

"Oh, yeah. He could leave his shoes at the foot of my bed any day..." she sighed wistfully, closing the paper and folding it up again.

"Is that so?" Tony sniggered, taking a sip of his water.

"Come on, Tony, you've got to have a celebrity crush."

"'Course I do."

"Who?"

Tony chuckled and downed the last of his cup. "Really wanna know?"

Kate nodded.

"Charlize Theron."

"Oh yeah?" Kate grinned. "If I jumped the fence I'd go for her too."

Tony wiggled his eyebrows, smiled wickedly and then began pensively staring just past her. After a few seconds, Kate clicked her fingers in front of his face. "DiNozzo?"

Tony shook his head sharply and assumed a large grin. "Sorry, my mind stopped at _'If I jumped the fence'_ and then just flew off on it's own..."

---

The plane touched down in Norfolk at a little past 10am.

It had been delayed twice on the tarmac in Washington due to the bad weather, causing Gibbs to begin uttering random phrases containing numerous expressions of distaste for the sun, the water cycle, cowardly pilots and the United Airlines commercial flight system.

Nevertheless, due in part to this irritation that Gibbs had developed, they were on the road to the crime scene within half an hour.

The drive from the airport to the hotel where they;d be staying was typical of a Leroy Jethro Gibbs joyride: fast, dangerous and ultimately unpredictable. Tony forgave Gibbs for gaining two feet of air as he went over a hidden speed bump, but there was no excuse for the other sixteen fully visible ones.

"Are we there yet?" Tony groaned.

"Shut it, DiNozzo," Gibbs grumbled.

Tony looked over at his boss and weighed up whether or not it was worth it.

"_Are we there yet?"_ he whined sarcastically.

Gibbs took the next corner particularly sharply, sending Tony slamming into the door.

"Gotcha, boss," he wheezed through his crushed lungs.

Kate smiled as she watched Tony squashed against the window. She wrapped her hand even tighter around the roof grip so she would not face the same fate. "I bet you were _that_ kid when you were little, weren't you DiNozzo," she asked.

"Damn right I was," he replied with a proud smile. "Inquisitive and keen."

"Bothersome and irritating," she snapped back.

"Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe."

"God, you're so childlike," Kate grumbled.

"I'm not the one that throws pens at her co-workers," Tony retorted.

"Look, if you two have something to sort out," Gibbs said, "do it now, before I am able to physically remove my hands from this wheel without killing the four of us."

"Uh, boss…" Tony said, "I think you have a pretty damn good chance of doing that if you keep your hands _on_ the wheel."


End file.
